The Whirlwind in the Thorn Trees
by WalkInEternity
Summary: AU. Harry Potter is the Antichrist, the guide to Hell's victory. Due to Voldemort's actions, however, he becomes an unknown variable; no one is sure what side he will now choose. Both Above and Below compete for his allegiance as The End draws near…
1. Ch 1: Setting the Stage

**The Whirlwind in the Thorn Trees**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything. All _Harry Potter_ stuff belongs to J.K. Rowling. Also, this story is heavily influenced by _Good Omens_, which is written by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. The title comes from the song "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash. And the quote used below is from the musical _Cabaret_.

**A.N.:** Yes, this is my first fanfiction. And apparently, instead of starting off easy, I decide to start writing a huge story that is going to be huge. I just…don't even know what I'm even thinking about. However, I am rather excited. Also, I would absolutely love a beta reader. I tried looking for one, but got overwhelmed by how awesome everyone is and was way too insecure to contact anyone. I'm actually super surprised that I'm even uploading this.

**Full Summary:**

Alternate Universe (AU). The Antichrist is supposed to be the Beast that brings about Armageddon, the one to help destroy Heaven and lead Hell to victory. This was supposed to be Harry Potter. Due to Lord Voldemort's actions, however, the Boy Who Lived is now an unknown variable and both Above and Below are vying to bring him to their side as The End draws near…

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

"_**And now! **__**Meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen! I present to you…"**_

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

**CH. 1: Setting the Stage: An Introduction of Sorts**

A young, handsome man stood glaring at the house in front of him, as if looking at it would make it disappear entirely. He could actually make this happen, but thought it would be counter-productive to the job assigned to him. He watched as an old man placed a letter on top of a small bundle that was sitting on the doorstep. He watched as this man gave one last sad look at said bundle, and then disappeared into thin air with the stern-looking woman, returning all artificial light to the empty street. He didn't shown signs of surprise at this obviously abnormal display, only annoyance. Thus, the glaring.

Without warning, a soft glow appeared a few houses away, distracting him from the house. It faded to reveal that another person had just appeared. The wave of angelic power suddenly hit him and almost had him doubled over. His eyes widened and he gasped in pain. In that same instance, the figure had spotted him. Next thing he knew, he was dragged further into the shadows and held up by his throat. He croaked out, "Hey, Gabriel! Fancy seeing you h-" The grip tightened and cut his air supply off. The one thing about his human body that he hated was how vulnerable it was.

"Leave the baby alone. He will not be swayed by the likes of _you_, Belial."

Belial couldn't respond. The figure, Archangel Gabriel, realized this and let go of his throat, but still stayed close, making sure Belial couldn't escape. Belial straightened up after catching his breath and fixed his tie. "Well, we'll see about that. I'm rather good at…tempting people," he said, sounding slightly hoarse. "And, you know, it's just orders. You don't have to strangle me for it."

Gabriel looked slightly embarrassed at this and took a step backwards. He considered these words and said, with a tinge of apology, "Actually, I think I do. You know, prevent evil and all that." He paused, and then sighed. "Well, it's not like you're doing much right now anyways." He then turned to study the house across the street.

Belial took this moment to study the Archangel. He was slightly taller than Belial himself, feminine features, and had waist length blond hair that covered the most _hideous_ suit Belial had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. It was an ill fitting white suit, with pink trim and a bunny on one of the pockets. It was tweed. Belial didn't even know tweed came in the colour white. He was about to ask the origins of this monstrosity, when Gabriel let out a gasp and ran across the street.

Belial, curious as to what got the angel so excited, followed him, albeit at a more sedate pace. He saw Gabriel lift the bundle off the doorstep and coo softly to it. He just stared for a few seconds and then decided to ask, "Hey, uh, Gabriel? You know that Harry isn't actually supposed to know you're there? I mean, if you're orders are similar to mine, then you are to only to subtly lead him to your side, not –are you humming the _Sailor Moon_ theme song?" Belial stared at the angel incredulously.

Gabriel stopped and blushed. "Well, you see, I thought music would comfort the poor dear and it's the only thing that popped in my mind." Belial was still staring at him. "Uh, it's just that I was watching the series the other day and I guess it just stuck in my head. You know, songs do that occasionally, though they're mostly of a more, ahem, holy sort. Well, for me. I don't know what kind of demonic songs get stuck in your head- Would you stop looking at me like that?" Gabriel was unnerved by Belial's stare. Belial, on the other hand, was remembering just how much Gabriel babbled before the Fall and realised that the angel hadn't changed a bit. Except for watching television shows. That was new. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and pointed at the bundle. "You can't keep him."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I know that. It doesn't mean that I can't hold him right now. I'll put Harry back; I just wanted to make sure he's alright. Imagine! Just leaving the poor thing out here where he could catch a chill! When I see Albus Dumbledore, he is going to get a_ stern_ talking to."

It was Belial's turn to roll his eyes. "Alright! Alright. I'm just trying to keep my own ass out of the fire. I'd be in deep shit if I let an angel kidnap the-" He was cut off by Gabriel clutching Harry closer and hissing, "Language! You are in the presence of a child!" Belial narrowed his eyes, "You do know that he is just a baby and can't understand what I'm saying, right? Not only that, but he's_ sleeping_!"

With the exception of shooting him a glare, Gabriel didn't reply to this. His features then softened as he looked down at the bundle in his arms. Belial felt his annoyance melt away at that loving look in the angel's eyes. It's not often a demon got to see such a look, even though it wasn't directed at him. He suddenly fought down the urge to try and grope the angel, because he really did not want to be smote right now.

He sighed and leaned against the wall and thought of how none of the other demons had to deal with this. Why was he always getting the menial tasks? He used to be Prince of Hell for G- Someone's sake! Of course, he was demoted since then. Apparently his work ethic was horrible. He doesn't really care about the ranking system, considering ambition is against his very slothful nature. He just really hates it when Beelzebub makes him do shit like this. Not that he does not like earth, but he'd rather spend it tempting people into bed with him than watch over an infant with an insane angel. Not that Gabriel had been part of his orders, but Belial knew he wasn't powerful enough to get rid of Gabriel and he didn't feel like explaining to Beelzebub that he needed a new body because he got his ass kicked by the Messenger of the Lord.

Gabriel sighed and placed Harry back on the doorstop. He straightened up and looked at his, er, companion. Belial was dressed in a tailor-made black suit and tie. He had styled black hair and plain blue eyes. His face was currently twisted in an expression that could be best described as annoyed. Wondering what could bother the demon, Gabriel realised that he never even attempted to smite him, and had only threatened him a little bit. Now that he thought about it, Belial seemed rather…okay…for a demon. Struck with a thought, he cleared his throat to get said demon's attention. Belial looked at him, waiting, but Gabriel didn't say anything, baffled on how to approach the subject. There was an awkward silence, which was only broken when Gabriel, desperate, looked down at Harry. Harry, of course, didn't offer any help, but it still gave Gabriel an opening. "The boy looks very comfortable in his bundle. Er…It'll be dawn soon. The boy won't be out here very much longer. I, er, well. I have time before I have to report Upstairs." Here he hesitated. "I hear that there is some sort of food place that is open twenty-four hours near here. Do you, er." He stopped again.

Belial felt a tug at the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help himself. He sidled closer to the angel and said, in a low voice, "Gabriel, are you asking me out on a _date_?" The angel immediately started to sputter, "No! That's not what I meant at all! I didn't even –that's absurd." He narrowed his eyes, a red tinge on his cheeks. "You –you _demon_! I meant only that we could get some food!" Belial just shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. He turned and started to walk down the street. Gabriel paused, looking at Belial in surprise. "Hey! Is that a yes?" No response. "You don't even know where the place is!" Belial kept walking. Gabriel hesitated again, sighed, and then started to follow him. Realising that Belial was already way ahead, he snapped, "The least you could do is wait!"

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

There was a roar and a splat. That was the sixth imp Moloch had squashed in the past few hours. Beelzebub was impressed. Lucifer was not. He cleared his throat loudly and was satisfied when Moloch turned and, reluctantly, made his way back to his seat. "Now, Moloch, that temper of yours will be the end of my Legion if you keep doing that. I know you're angry, but we can be perfectly civilised about this." Personally, he felt like doing some damage himself. That snake bastard ruined his plans and pissed him off. Luckily for Lord Voldemort, the Morning Star was adaptable and knew how to work situations to his advantage. Also, he had self control unlike _others_ in his Legion.

He, Beelzebub, Moloch, and Mammon were all seated around an elegant table that one would find in a conference meeting between rich businessmen. Lucifer really liked that table. Hopefully, the imp sludge wouldn't stain it. "Beelzebub, has Belial confirmed the boy's location at Privet Drive?" At his nod, Lucifer continued. "Tom Riddle has made his move. However, we do not need to seek him out and torture him for all eternity." He smirked at the looks he received. "A rare reaction, I know, but he will be useful in the upcoming…events. Riddle did not, and still does not know about the nature of Harry's existence, which of course does not _excuse_ him. However, this lack of knowledge will leave the boy at an advantage when Riddle goes after him again."

Mammon spoke up then, his deep voice filling the chamber, "Lord Satan, Riddle represents all that is evil in the magical world. When Harry learns what happened to his parents, he will undoubtedly choose the opposite side. How can we gain from this?" Lucifer smirked. "Harry is an orphan now and has lost the only security he had. He is going to grow up in a household that hates him. He is going to go to a school where he is famous for killing their own devil," here his lips quirked at the irony, "and consequently isolating him from his peers. No matter how hard Harry tries, he cannot go against his very nature. By the time he comes of age, and therefore full power, he will choose our side. The_ winning_ side." Lucifer's eyes glinted dangerously. "And if Heaven thinks they can sway _my_ boy to theirs, well, then they've got another thing coming."

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

The young healer dressed in white moved gracefully between the masses. Shouts of victory filled the air in St. Mungo's Hospital. The patients, visitors, and healers were all celebrating the downfall of Lord Voldemort, except for him. No, he was very interested in the old woman upstairs in one of the long term wards. He silently made his way through the noisy halls until he reached her room. Opening the door, he peered into the darkened area. She was sleeping. He stepped closer to her bed, a torch alighting automatically. He leaned over her. Placing a hand gently, almost lovingly, on her shoulder, he woke her up. She gasped in surprise and he moved slightly backwards, a concerned frown on his face.

The woman slowly sat up, in obvious pain, and said to the young man, "Sorry, dearie, you startled me. Is it time to check me again?" He shook his head and then smiled reassuringly. "No, ma'am. I was just concerned for your health. Cancer is a hard disease to fight." The old woman looked frail and on the verge of death, but gave him a stubborn look. Yes, this one was definitely a fighter. He almost shivered in delight. He loved a challenge. "Young man, I have been through much harder things. I've made it through the war! I am not going to let some _muggle_ disease be the end of me. I will get through this!" She had to stop her speech there, for coughs suddenly wracked her body. It went on for a few minutes and tears gathered in her eyes. He leaned down and took her shaking hand in hers. A smile lit his face. This smile was usually used by doctors and healers alike when they told a patient they're going to be _okay_. For some reason, that smile on him was unsettling. His head tilted slightly and he whispered, "No, ma'am. Sorry, but you won't."

Minutes later, the healer in white was imagining a crown upon his head and humming softly to himself. He loves to watch the life slowly fading from their eyes, until only an empty shell is left.

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

The old, dour-looking man sat miserably sipping his fire-whiskey as the party raged on around him. One of the partiers, an obviously intoxicated man with scraggly ginger hair, sat down beside him. He had bloodshot eyes and smelled like alcohol and tobacco. This contrasted greatly to the man beside him who looked like an experienced general who was dressed in a deep red uniform. The drunken man spoke up and said, "H-Hey, mishter! Wu-Why the long faash? He who-who mush not be named ish dead!" The man obviously thought that this statement would receive a positive reaction, but the old guy just continued to drink. The man continued, leaning in more. "Y-Yah know, thish means th-that the waar ish ovar!"

This got a sigh from the elder, and he said glumly, in a deep voice, "I know. That's the problem." However, the drunken guy was not paying attention and was staring at him with only the intense concentration that a person that was completely bent could achieve. "Mishter. Yah gotsha preddy good shcar there, huh?" He tried to point to the man's eye, where there looked to be a scar that ran right down the side of his face, but instead pointed somewhere near the man's chest. The man irritably slapped the finger away, but seemed a little happier about the topic of disfigurement. "Ah, yes. I received it in the Battle of Stalingrad. You wizards might even know of it. I killed the man that did it of course, and I can get rid of it any time I want, but I had so much fun at that battle that I keep it as a fond memento."

He flashed the drunkard a nasty grin and downed the rest of his fire-whiskey. He grabbed a cane that was leaning next to him and gave the younger guy a mocking salute. "Well, it was a pleasure talking with you, but I'm needed elsewhere. Though, I'm sure I'll see the wizarding world again soon enough. Adieu," and with that, the man disappeared out the door. He was surprisingly fast for an old man. The other, one Mundungus Fletcher, through the alcohol-induced haze, realised that there was something _familiar_ and off-putting about the man, but couldn't straighten out his thoughts well enough to figure out what. By the next morning, he had completely forgotten about the encounter and, unsurprisingly, the rest of the night as well.

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

The model was in her personal dressing room playing with a set of scales when her agent burst into the room. "Miss Black, one of the ladies, Jesse, called in sick and you've been bumped up an hour. Hurry! Get ready!" The woman, Miss Black, set down the scales on her dresser and shot the manager a devious smirk, not worried about the rearranged schedule. "Jesse, huh? I bet she has a major hangover." At the agent's confused expression, she clarified. "That girl was up all night celebrating with some weird robe-wearing losers. Hah! That's what she gets for not inviting me."

Her agent sighed and just said, "Well, it doesn't matter. What matters is they have to fit you in a totally new outfit because Jesse was a few sizes bigger than you are." He motioned towards the open door, "And if we don't go now, darling, then Brenda's going to throw a big, melodramatic hissy fit." Miss Black got up, stretched, and started walking in the direction the agent gestured. "She doesn't like me anyways. I think she's just jealous." Her eyes twinkled in amusement. The agent sighed, not arguing. Because it was true. Everyone was jealous of Miss Black. She was so skinny; there were barely any muscles on her bones at all. Yet…she made what should look unhealthy and skeletal, absolutely enchanting. Absolutely beautiful. This inspired admiration, but mostly jealousy. This jealousy inspired eating disorders and other such problems. Other models would cut their diet until they weren't eating at all, just to keep up with Miss Black. They literally starved themselves to be like her.

She twisted a slender finger into her long, black hair as she hummed a melody through her ruby red lips. The agent completely forgot what he was thinking about and slapped her hand away from her hair. "What do you think you're doing? We don't have time for the stylist to redo your hair!" She just smirked at him and continued down the hall.

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

Two figures watched, invisible to human eyes, as Vernon and Petunia Dursley screamed at one another. Adding to the noise were two crying infants, one in Petunia's arms and the other on the sofa. A parchment letter lay on the table between them, ignored, but not forgotten. One of the unseen figures shook her head in despair; her bright green eyes were filled with unshed tears. "My poor baby. I-I protected him the best I could, but I just wish-" Her voice cracked. The figure beside her was silent, but awkwardly laid a bony hand on her shoulder in an attempt at comfort. She turned to him. "Thank you, for letting me linger so long. For letting me say goodbye." The hooded being shrugged and replied in a voice that was not so much heard by ears, but one that resonated in a person's _head_, "I am Everywhere." This wasn't a clear reply, but seemed to be the only one she was going to get. She moved to the bundle on the couch and laid a hand on top of it. Harry quieted immediately and stared up at her. This went unnoticed by the Dursleys, but surprise flitted across the woman's face. "He can see me?"

"Of course, Lily Evans. He perceives more than a human because he _is_ more than a human."

Lily's face twisted. Anger flashed in her eyes and one could see the strong, stubborn woman who had died for her son. "He is _my_ boy. He is a _Potter_. You'll see. Harry will make his own path and no one, good or evil, will stop him." The black clad figure was quiet, then said softly, in a slightly amused tone, "Lily Evans-" he stopped, seeing her look, then continued, even more amused, "Lily Potter, if the boy is even half as courageous and human as you, neither Heaven nor Hell will be able to stop him." His words seemed to placate her as anger faded away to be replaced by a bittersweet tenderness. She leaned over her baby and kissed him softly. "Goodbye, Harry." Her heart shattered. _I love you._

She stood up and, without taking her eyes off her son, addressed Death with the strength that only a mother can possess. "I'm ready." He didn't answer. No more words needed to be said. He gently, tenderly, reached out and took her soul. He folded it neatly and placed it into his robes. Then, only to the eyes of a baby boy, he vanished from the room.

The only trace of his presence was a lingering whisper that hid away in the subconscious, one that contained a simple, yet powerful message: _Come and see._

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

**A.N.:** So there it is. My first chapter of my first fanfic. I would love many reviews. Please guys?

**About this story:** I have a feeling this plot has already been done a million times, but I just had to write it. It just would not. Leave. Me. Alone. So basically, this story is set in an alternate universe where Harry is the antichrist and it will go through his time growing up, his time at Hogwarts, end of the world, etc. No, I have not figured out where I'm going to go with this; I am a very poor planner. Also, I know this chapter was filled with non-canon characters, but I assure you that I want this to focus on Harry. I think this was more like a prologue than an actual first chapter. I just realised that I portrayed Gabriel totally different to how I actually planned him out. And the Sailor Moon thing? I don't even know where it came from. Can you imagine it though? Sailor Gabriel! It amuses me. XD

**EDIT:** I just realised that the name "Miss Black" could be interpreted to be Bellatrix. However, Miss Black is not the same person as the insane Death Eater. Sorry.


	2. Ch 2: Biscuits and Bacon

**The Whirlwind in the Thorn Trees**

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything. All _Harry_ _Potter_ stuff belongs to J.K. Rowling. Also, this story is heavily influenced by _Good_ _Omens_, which is written by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. The title comes from the song "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash.

**A.N:** Wow, I haven't updated this story in months. Sorry guys (to the few who actually read the first chapter). I blame everything on RL. It's a bitch. Um, so if anyone is still even a little interested in this story, then here is the second chapter! Yay! ^.^;

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

**CH. 2:**** Biscuits and Bacon: The Early Years**

Harry Potter was not an ordinary boy. Strange things happened around him, much to the chagrin of his Aunt and Uncle. The Dursley's were the epitome of a perfectly ordinary family, and an abnormal little boy did not fit into this image. In his first few years living with them, they tried to stamp all the weirdness out of Harry. However, strange things still happened around him, and they were unsuccessful. Instead, they locked him up and kept him away from other people, stating that he was a problem child, or outright denying they even had a nephew. They hoped no one would notice the one flaw in their otherwise faultless household.

One such attempt to turn Harry into an ordinary boy was Harry's first (and last) religious service. Petunia and Vernon had been going to this church for years. It was where they had their wedding, and where Dudley was baptised (not Harry; they didn't want to spend the money on getting him a nice suit for the ceremony). They were on quite good terms with Father Conway. They thought it would be no trouble to bring Harry; they thought maybe they could mould him with religion. They were wrong. What happened in that Sunday morning service left Petunia and Vernon so mortified that they didn't go to church for almost a year, only able to drag themselves back at Christmas time when mostly everyone had forgotten about the incident.

Their first sign (warning) that things were going to be different was that Father Conway was away. Apparently he won a trip for two to Hawai'i in a contest. He and his wife were ecstatic and left immediately. The strange thing was that he never remembered even applying to said contest. His temporary replacement, Father G. Malachi, assured them that he was qualified and to not worry, Father Conway would be back before they knew it.

It was obvious when Father Malachi started the sermon that he knew his stuff really well, but his delivery needed a lot of work. Also, it seemed he spent an abnormal amount of time on Book of the Revelation and such, stating how it was foretold that Heaven won the Final Battle, not Hell. He expressively declared that people should remember that good always triumphed evil and that people should keep that in mind when they're making important decisions. For some reason, he stared straight at Harry when he said that, though no one noticed, but Harry himself.

Nothing really went wrong until it was time for Holy Eucharist, the receiving of bread and wine, which represents Christ's sacrifice. Now, it must be noted that throughout the whole mass, Harry had not cleansed himself with the holy water in the lobby, nor had he picked up a bible. Harry, in fact, was quite bored and didn't really understand anything that was going on. His Aunt and Uncle would not let him speak or move and he was quite tired. Also, he was slightly freaked out by the intent looks he kept receiving from the priest. Dudley was sleeping beside him, though the Dursley's didn't seem to care, but he was starting to snore and it was annoying Harry. He just wanted to leave.

He did perk up a bit, though, when people started to line up. The priest seemed to be handing out wafers to everyone. Harry hadn't had a chance to snatch breakfast this morning and was quite hungry. When his Aunt pushed him into the line, Harry actually started to feel happy about being in church. Apparently, people got free food. Also, his Aunt had shoved him in front of Dudley (who was woken up, but still seemed asleep on his feet) which never happened in his life. Usually, it was always Harry who went last.

When it came time for him to receive his wafer, Father Malachi paused, opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to change his mind. All he did was place the holy biscuit in Harry's hand. The boy thanked him and immediately stuffed the wafer into his eager mouth. This turned out to be a big mistake. Harry suddenly felt his mouth burning, and immediately spit the wafer out. It landed by the priest's feet, a soggy mess that was tinged with red. He could feel blood welling in his open mouth and out of the corners, but could not taste it. His eyes watered from the pain. Everyone was a blur. He felt hands on him pulling and noise around him which sounded like panicked shouts or shocked noises. He didn't remember much after that, except for a doctor telling his Aunt and Uncle that there was no permanent damage, but it would be weeks before he could taste food again. The eventual explanation that anyone could come up with was that Harry had a weird allergic reaction. His Aunt and Uncle didn't think it was an allergy, though. It was just more of Harry's _strangeness_. Also, the Dursley's decided that he was too weird to be trusted alone and that they needed a babysitter (Before, they hadn't bothered getting someone to watch Harry. They didn't want to waste money on him and Dudley didn't need one because they never left him alone). Harry decided he's never going to eat wafers again.

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

"I can't believe you gave the Antichrist a holy wafer," Belial smirked.

"I didn't think that blessed objects affected him! After all, he's born a human!" Gabriel's voice had an edge of panic and embarrassment to it.

Gabriel had posed as a substitute priest in order to be closer to Harry and try to sway him over to the side of Good. Of course, he wasn't very successful. Apparently, Harry burned when touched with anything holy just like any other demon. And on the subject of demons, Gabriel should not have let Belial find out about his mishap. The fallen angel was sitting across the table from him in the coffee shop laughing. Really, it was making a scene.

Gabriel leaned over and said, with venom, "Well, at least I was able to get closer to the boy than any of your attempts! And this incident left me with the perfect opportunity to care and nurture the boy!"

Belial stopped laughing and just looked confused. "Look, Gabriel, you can't show your face again to the Dursley's. They probably think you're a psycho-priest or something." He paused, and then added, "And my attempts haven't been unsuccessful! Just a little...Well, at least I haven't almost killed the boy!"

Gabriel looks worried. "Dear…you…you don't think I could have actually killed him, do you?"

Belial opened his mouth to make a snarky reply, but he shut it again when he sees the genuine concern on Gabriel's face. "Okay, yes, the wafer could have done a lot more damage, or he could have touched a _bible_, or something. I think Harry could have had a lot worse injury, but nothing permanent. Angel, he is a powerful being. I don't think you could have accidentally murdered a boy like that."

Gabriel's shoulders slumped in relief. "Oh, good. I have been worrying about it all week. My superiors would have been _so_ upset with me." A small smile appears on his face. "Thank you, dear. You really made me feel better."

Belial froze. He had been spending more time with Gabriel lately, and they have been getting friendlier with one another. It was only because they had no one else to talk or complain to (not that Belial was friends with his other co-workers. He'd rather be up here than in Hell). Watching Harry was a full time job and the only time they got to talk to others on their respective sides was when they did their progress reports. It was…kind of lonely. However, this was no excuse. They were still enemies. They were on two different sides of a war and Belial was struggling to remember that. Right now, seeing Gabriel smile at him filled him with an emotion that he can't quite place, but it made him _uncomfortable_.

Belial sighed and rubbed a hand through his styled hair, messing it up. A demon wasn't supposed to feel this way, especially about an angel. It felt as though he actually _liked_ the sodding angel and that was so, so wrong. Demons, towards their decidedly less Fallen counterparts, felt anger, hatred, jealousy, or any other negative emotion. Any sinful thoughts were encouraged, even lust. However, the feelings he had for Gabriel didn't include disdain or any regular demon emotions (except for lust, but was obvious considering he felt that way about everyone). There was still dislike and annoyance, but it was overshadowed by the growing understanding and tolerance of the angel. It's not like they were friends though. They could never be friends.

"What's wrong, dear?" Gabriel's voice broke through his thoughts. Without really thinking, Belial snapped, "Don't call me that, Gabriel! You're always acting so fucking polite and _familiar_! It annoys the h- shit out of me!" He immediately regretted it as Gabriel's face turned stony. "Well, _demon_, then I must be going. Better things to do, and all that."

Gabriel made to stand up, but Belial caught his arm. "Wait, Gabriel, stay!" He paused, but continued on, "Please." Gabriel just looked at him for a few moments, and then slowly lowered himself back into his seat. Belial let go of his arm and couldn't meet the angel's eyes. He was sure that there would be understanding in them and he really didn't want to see that. Stupid perceptive angel.

They sat like that for a while, with Gabriel looking at Belial, while the demon examined his own hands. The silence was a little tense, but not too uncomfortable. Finally, Gabriel, a little hesitantly and quietly, said, "Dumbledore wanted Mrs. Figgs –you know, the cat lady who lives two streets away from the boy? – to watch Harry for him. She was to do this by becoming Harry's babysitter."

Belial looked up, "And?"

"Well, the Dursley's thought that a Ms. Ryder was much more qualified for the job." Gabriel looked a little smug, but Belial couldn't figure out why. He frowned and said, "Ms. Ryder? I don't think I know her, and I made sure I knew everyone in Harry's neighbourhood. Who is-" He cut off, his eyes widening as realisation struck him. "Gabriel? _You_ got the job as Harry's babysitter?" Belial was completely floored. Gabriel may be an angel, but he lacked the ability to act normal. And his dress sense was horrible. "How the h- in the world did you convince the Dursley's to give you the job?"

Gabriel suddenly couldn't look him in the eyes. Belial smirked. "You cheated, didn't you?"

"It wasn't cheating! I just…let them see what they wanted to see in a babysitter," Gabriel protested. "Also, they won't let Harry around animals, especially pets, because apparently animals don't like him. I think they can sense what he is. Mrs. Figgs was glad to take care of Harry, but she wouldn't give up her cats." He shrugged. "It just…worked in my favour."

Belial groaned. "Of course you're able to get a job as Harry's babysitter. What am I supposed to tell my superiors?"

Gabriel looked slightly guilty. "Well, um, there is always my failed attempt at priesthood. That will go over well with them, don't you think?"

Belial looked much happier. "Yeah. Okay." Then he frowned. "Wait. If you are going take care of the boy, how are you going to do it without a place to baby-sit him in?"

Gabriel's eyes lit up. "I just got a house across the street from Harry. The old couple who lived there won the lottery, which I'll admit was my doing, and are going to move closer to their children. I move in next week! Well, I don't really have any possessions to speak of, so I'm not really moving anything into the house, but it is still an exhilarating experience! I convinced my superiors it was a good idea, and they agreed that it would make an easier job of watching Harry." He practically glowed (which, for an angel, is entirely possible to do).

Belial shook his head and said, "You thought of everything, didn't you? Where did you get the free time to think about this?"

"Ah. Well. I don't really _have_ any extra time. I spend nearly all my time watching the boy. I don't even have time to watch my favourite television programmes…" the angel looked slightly pained about this. "And about being Harry's babysitter, well, I sort of panicked right after the…church incident and I had to do _something_…"

Belial lifted an eyebrow. "So you're saying this was mostly improvised?

Gabriel looked a little embarrassed. "Er. Yes. Basically."

Belial snickered, but then the thought of Gabriel living right across the street from the Antichrist fully sunk in and he frowned. "I'm going to have to do something big before I report this to my superiors. They'll think that you have a much greater advantage than I do." He then hastily added, "Which you don't. It's just that Downstairs will be riding me to get something productive done."

Gabriel looked thoughtful. "You could do the same thing I did. Get a job that puts you close to Harry. Like a…oh, I don't know, a milkman or something."

"A _milkman_? That sounds hard. And a little outdated. Is that job even available anymore? What else gets deli- Aha! _Mail_! Everyone gets mail!" Belial looked enormously pleased with himself. "I'm going to be a mailman!" He checked his watch and before Gabriel could respond, the demon bounced up from his chair. "Well, I better get going, Angel." He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "And, uh, about earlier-"

"Don't worry about it, dear, I understand." Gabriel smiled, though it seemed slightly sad.

Belial cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening. "Well, uh, see you next week?"

"As always."

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

Harry's little hands clutched the broom tightly as he swept the driveway of number four, Privet Drive. He was out early enough that dew still clung to lawn and bushes. He had accidentally dropped the toast on the floor so Aunt Petunia shoved him out the door with a broom, telling him to not come back in until the driveway was spotless.

"Hello, Harry."

He looked up in surprise and saw the mailman, Mr. Apple, had been watching him. Harry wondered how a person could be so quiet. Mr. Apple sauntered over to where Harry was standing and bent down to look him in the eyes.

"I see you're hard at work. You know, the best way of doing things is to get _other_ people to do them for you. Put in as _little_ effort as possible. Understand?" Harry frowned and shook his head. That didn't seem right. The mailman sighed. "I tell you this because I know you are starting primary school soon and I want you to be prepared. I'm giving you free advice here, kid." He straightened up and wagged a finger at Harry. "That's another thing. Nothing in life is free. Unless you steal it. And it's perfectly fine to take things as long as you don't get cau-"

He was cut off by the door opening. Aunt Petunia stepped out and, with one look, had Harry scurrying back inside, broomstick and all. She smiled at Mr. Apple and he internally sighed. He had wanted to talk with Harry alone. On the outside, the mailman smiled right back and they both started to chat.

Back inside, Harry had put the broom away and made his way into the kitchen, where Dudley was whining and Uncle Vernon was drinking coffee. He sat down at the table where there was cold, burnt bacon on his plate. Uncle Vernon looked up from his cup and said in a gruff voice. "Where is your aunt? She said she was going to get the mail."

"She was talking to Mr. Apple when I came back inside, sir," Harry replied. His aunt and the mailman loved to gossip about everything, especially secrets the neighbours tried to keep hidden. Everyday they would spend a long time talking, which annoyed Uncle Vernon. Sure enough, at the mention of Mr. Apple, Vernon's face turned red and he placed his coffee cup on the table with more force than necessary.

"I don't see why that woman needs to talk with the blasted mailman. It's not like they talk about anything _important_," he sneered. This was a mistake. Petunia had just come inside soon enough to hear his comment, and was looking affronted. She strode towards the table and placed the mail right in front of Vernon, her movements quite stiff.

Vernon looked at Petunia, and then to the mail sitting on his plate. He didn't like upsetting his wife, but he wasn't the sort of man to back down either. Ignoring the mail for now, he sat back in his chair and said, "Well. Today, it seems your chat with _Mr_. _Apple_," he said the mailman's name like it was something dirty, "didn't go very long. I wonder if the man has finally come to his senses and realise that chattering like a housewife does not let him do his job properly. Like making sure people get their mail on time."

Petunia's beady eyes narrowed. This was the same moment that Dudley noticed no one was paying him any attention and was about to scream for attention. Then he caught the _look_ on his mother's face and, in a rare moment of actually using common sense, decided to steal the rest of the bacon (except for the burnt pieces on Harry's plate. Apparently, even Dudley has standards on what he eats) before sneaking off to watch television. Harry didn't have a television to sneak off to, and he was hungry. Unlike Dudley, Harry didn't have the luxury of choosing what he wants to eat, so he would settle for cold, burnt bacon. He settled down to eat it, trying to ignore his aunt and uncle.

Meanwhile, Petunia and Vernon were staring at each other. Vernon was carefully considering if this was worth a few nights on the couch, but eventually wilted under Petunia's piercing glare. Petunia watched in satisfaction as her husband's shoulders slumped and as he tried to pretend that he hadn't just surrendered. He cleared his throat awkwardly, grumbled out an apology, and begrudgingly said that Petunia can spend as much time as she likes talking to the mailman. Petunia just smirked and sat down at the table. They both didn't seem to notice Harry.

There was a long moment of silence where Petunia savoured her victory. Then, as nonchalantly as she could, stated that it was Mr. Apple's last day anyway and that they wouldn't be able to talk anymore. Petunia, if she was that kind of person, would have burst out laughing at the look on Vernon's face. _That taught him._

And Harry was just a little bit relieved. He didn't really like Mr. Apple. Harry didn't know exactly what it was, but there was something really _off_ about that man.

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

They met again in a park. Belial was lounging on a bench and, through a pair of dark shades, watching people go past. He smiled appreciatively at almost all of them, especially a pair of joggers who looked as though they spent half their life working out together. They probably did. Belial hated exercise, but he could think of one work out he wouldn't mind doing with those two. Maybe-

"Belial. Are you listening? Excuse me!" An annoyed voice interrupted his thought pattern and, rather miffed himself, turned to the person who dared to- oh. Gabriel. Of course. Now that he actually realised who it was, Belial wondered how he could have missed the sheer amount of angelic power that was emanating from Gabriel. However, that wasn't the most obvious clue to his identity. No, the latest eyesore that Gabriel wore was the thing that stood out the most (Belial thought the lace and polka dots were going a little overboard). Belial rolled his eyes at the being who, after realising he finally had Belial's attention, sat down beside him on the bench.

"What, angel? Can't you see I'm _busy_?" Belial gestured to a rather attractive businesswoman and it was Gabriel's turn to roll his eyes.

"No, you're not. I was trying to get your attention because I was out for an early morning constitutional and received quite a shock when I noticed that the man delivering mail in Harry's neighbourhood was, in fact, _not you_."

Bugger. Belial tried, and failed, to act casual. "Ah, yes, that. I was, ah, fired." He cringed. "I didn't think you would notice."

Gabriel, being an angel, frowned upon finding amusement in others misfortunes. However, he thought there wasn't any harm in indulging just this once. Belial noticed right away. It was hard to miss the humour in Gabriel's face. And the giggle that escaped from his lips. And how his shoulders were shaking with mirth. Belial sighed.

"Look, it wasn't my fault! It was just so much _work_! I'm not cut out for menial labour. Or really any labour at all. And I figured it didn't really matter that much if I got it all mixed up. I mean, the house numbers are _so_ close together, I figured, what would it matter if the package for house number nine went to number ten, or the bills for number six went to number five? I thought, close enough! And that crazy _bitch_ that lives with the Antichrist! Just to get close to the boy even for a minute, I had to spend several hours talking to her! I should get some sort of _commendation_ for that part alone!"

Belial leaned back on the bench and closed his eyes. Gabriel had stopped giggling, but Belial was sure there was still amusement in the angel's eyes. Gabriel, on his part, felt a wave of guilt overcome any humour he found in the demon's predicament. He now had more access to Harry than Belial did (therefore, more influence), which put Heaven at a greater advantage than Hell, but this also meant that Hell would not react well to this development.

He put a consoling hand on Belial's shoulder. The demon opened his eyes and glanced at this hand and then stared at Gabriel strangely. However, he didn't pull away. Gabriel gave him a sympathetic smile, tinged with a bit of guilt, and said, "Don't worry, dear. I'm sure you'll find something before you have to report Below."

Belial's eyes widened in surprise and an incredulous laugh bubbled out. Gabriel frowned in confusion, but Belial just waved him off. "Oh no, angel. Sure, I'm pissed off about losing the job and therefore wasting all that fu-" Gabriel gave him a look and then deliberately turned his eyes to a mother dragging her two children past. Belial hardly even paused, "-bloody effort, but I'm not worried about finding a new way to get closer to Harry." At Gabriel's questioning look, Belial smirked and explained. "The boy's starting primary school soon, and there just happened to be a job opening at that very same school."

Gabriel was suddenly filled with a terrible sense of foreboding. He was almost scared to know the answer, but asked Belial anyways. "And-and what, may I ask, is the position? A secretary or librarian, perhaps? Or," Here Gabriel sounded a bit hopeful, "maybe a janitor? One that works on a late shift so that they never have to come in contact with the students. _Ever_."

Belial's blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "Now, angel, could you really imagine me as a janitor? Think of all that work I would have to do! Nah, this job is much easier." He leaned closer to Gabriel. "I just got the job for," he paused, loving the way the angel almost shook with anticipation. Or, most likely, dread. "_a student counsellor._"

Gabriel's look of absolute horror was almost enough to make up for being literally kicked out of the post office. Almost.

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

**A.N.:** Tada! Second chapter! This was originally going to include a lot more scenes and a lot more Harry. I just…don't know what happened. So yah. I'm writing chapter three, so it should be up in another few months…just kidding. Hopefully. I really want to update more often so I'm gonna try to finish the third chapter as fast as I can without it totally sucking. And what would really be encouraging is to actually get reviews! Even ones that are like, "Dude, s'alright." So, uh, ttfn!


	3. Ch 3: Bullies and Horsepersons

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything. All _Harry_ _Potter_ stuff belongs to J.K. Rowling. Also, this story is heavily influenced by _Good_ _Omens_, which is written by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. The title comes from the song "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash.

**A.N.:** So I've been writing again for the past few days (see my shining new story for example) and I've had most of this typed up over a year now. So I cleaned it up a bit and decided to post it. So, sorry for the long wait. It's been a long, long time. Anyone still interested in this story? Well, hope you enjoy this chapter.

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

**CH. 3: Bullies and Horsepersons: School Daze**

It was another day of Harry Hunting. Dudley and his gang were closing in on him and there was not a teacher in sight. Harry had reached a dead end near the school kitchens and there was nowhere to go with the boys just around the corner. He could hear their feet pounding on the pavement and their voices yelling, "He went that way!" Any second now, they would round that corner and he would be trapped. He had nowhere to hide, or run. The only way to go was up and onto the roof, which was impossible. Not to mention that students were not allowed on the roof and Harry would get in a lot of trouble (especially since he has already been in trouble this week for turning his teacher's wig blue. Not that he meant for it to turn blue, nor that he even knew how he did it in the first place). Harry shook his head, trying to dislodge that thought. It was useless to think about the impossible, but his desperate and panicked mind imagined himself safe on the roof, high above any malicious students. He could sit right by the chimney and Dudley's gang would never think to look up. He could almost feel the tile under his feet, the smell of smoke from the chimney, the cool breeze sweeping over the slant roof…

Just as it seemed he was actually on the roof, a crashing noise brought him back to reality. Harry realised his eyes were closed and he reluctantly opened them, thinking that he would open them just in time to see Dudley's fist flying at him. This was not the case. There was no one. It was silence. Harry stood dumbfounded. Where had Dudley's gang gone? Had they somehow missed him? Not believing his luck, Harry cautiously made his way out of the passage, where he had accidentally turned and trapped himself. He reached the corner and heard a noise. It sounded like…groaning? Perturbed, Harry peered around the corner and was faced with a sight he never thought he would see. Dudley's entire gang lay scattered around the pavement, at least a couple out cold. Dudley was in the center of the mess whimpering and clutching his head, not paying any attention to his surroundings. No one noticed Harry.

Glad that they wouldn't beat him up today, but a little worried about who beat them up and if they were worse than Dudley's gang (though he couldn't imagine anyone being _worse_ than the gang), Harry started to back away from the defeated boys. And bumped into something tall and solid. He let out a yelp and turned around, looking up. A big man stood in front of him. His black hair was cropped short with white streaks on either side. He had a scar that went across his right eye, which was pale and filmy unlike his other, dark brown eye. He wore a red uniform and his whole posture screamed "military".

Harry's eyes widened and was prepared to flee, when the old man spoke, his voice like the rumble of thunder, "Hey, White, we are not here to _kill_ the young whelps." This confused Harry, but he quickly realised that the man wasn't talking to him, wasn't even looking at him. Instead, he was looking over Harry at someone behind him.

Harry whirled back around and saw a boy dressed in white scrubs who wasn't there a few seconds before. He was crouching over Dudley. For some reason this made Harry worried for Dudley, instead of the much smaller being over him. With the other man's words, the boy looked up with a pout on his face. When he spoke, his voice came out light and dreamy, at complete odds with his childish expression.

"C'mon! It's only a little plague. Plus, Red, you got a turn with them, why can't I?"

"Because I didn't kill them. It would've been fun, but things like that draw the wrong sort of attention nowadays."

"You just don't appreciate my art."

The old man was about to reply, but that was the moment Harry found enough courage to voice his curiosity.

"E-excuse me, but who are you?"

The old man looked almost startled at the boy standing in front of him, as if he didn't even notice Harry standing there. The boy stood up, and Harry realised the boy was older and taller than he initially thought. The boy was actually a young man, with short, curly blonde hair and grey eyes that were now focussed intently on Harry.

"Ah. It's the boy. Hullo, little one. My name is…well. That would be giving the game away, wouldn't it?" Here the young man giggled. "And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

The other man clapped Harry on the shoulder, and gave Harry a smile. This was probably the man trying to be gentle, but the effect was more of a bear trying to make friends with a rabbit. Harry was busy trying to keep upright under the man's hand than actually trying to escape.

"You can call me General Red, though I haven't officially been a general since several wars back. This one," he gestured to the smiling man in white, "is Dr. White."

Harry stared up at the man, or general, and couldn't think of what to say. Finally, he settled on reciprocating the introduction. "Uh, I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

He wasn't expecting the odd pair to burst out laughing. The younger one, the doctor, had a creepy sort of giggle while the general had a deep, hearty laugh. Red was laughing so hard, he folded his arms so they were clenched around his stomach. Now, Harry had just about enough. Yes, these two were very weird and scary, but Harry was quite used to people laughing at him and therefore on more familiar ground. He decided that he has had a trying day and he did not need to be laughed at for his name.

"It's not funny!"

He tried his best to seem in control, but the effect was ruined by the fact that Harry only came up to the general's waist. Apparently, they thought this was hilarious and laughed even harder. Harry clenched his fists together and could feel his teeth grinding together. Something deep within him stirred.

"_Stop laughing!"_

The two immediately shut up, more out of surprise than actual fear. They looked at one another and then at Harry. There was a pause, and then the general spoke in a soothing tone.

"Relax, boy. You don't have to use that tone with us."

Dr. White cut in. "Yeah. It's just, you're Harry Potter. Of course we know who you are. Introducing yourself to us is beyond absurd." He then pointed at Harry, who was still angry, but it was being replaced by bewilderment. "And your expression was so comical! Er."

The general cut in, shooting the doctor a look. "Harry, my boy, we may seem…odd, but we're on your side! Well, that actually depends on you, but there will be time for those things later. For now, can't you see we mean you no harm? Other people…that's another story, but it's the whole reason we helped you today!"

Harry looked at him, his anger completely gone, and then looked at Dudley and his gang, still spread across the pavement. They didn't look to be getting up any time soon. "I-I don't understand, sir. Why me? I'm…just a kid." Just Harry.

White stepped closer to Harry. "Just a kid?" He smiled. "Oh, Harry, you are-"

He never finished his sentence. At that moment, Harry heard an exclamation of surprise and realise that a teacher had finally spotted the scene. Harry panicked and realised that this would look bad and he would probably get in trouble again.

Suddenly, it seemed, Harry was surrounded by school staff all worried and fussing over the boys on the pavement. In the confusion, Harry didn't see the two men slip away, but they must've because there was not a trace of them left, save the beaten gang. Harry was braced for the teacher's to demand explanations or assign Harry the blame, but they all seemed to ignore him. Strangely, it's as if they didn't even see him standing there.

Harry decided that before his luck ran out and he was spotted, to slip away unnoticed and pretend he wasn't even there in the first place. He nearly succeeded in it, and even almost forgot the strange encounter with the two men, when he overheard Dudley talking about his encounter to his parents.

The Dursley's were looking for someone to blame for poor Duddykins' black eye. Harry realised he was waiting for Dudley to describe the general and the doctor, but Dudley's answer surprised him. It was odd how he spoke, with a blank face and an almost absent-minded tone. He said that it wasn't serious, that his friends just got into an argument. They were…he didn't know what they were doing before, but suddenly they were fighting each other. No one else was to blame, because it was all between them. Harry knew this was wrong. He knew that General Red…did what? Harry didn't actually see what happened. He assumed that the general had stopped Dudley's gang by, well, beating them up or something. Dudley wouldn't lie about this. At least, he would lie if it could get someone else in trouble, and Harry knew for a fact Dudley wouldn't cover for someone like the general or the doctor. So that means he was telling the truth.

Harry didn't know what to think, but he knew that he hadn't seen the last of General Red or Doctor White.

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

The incident did nothing to deter Dudley's gang from picking on Harry and it got to the point where his babysitter, Ms. Ryder, noticed.

He was sitting in her kitchen one day (which was a dreadful mash of colours and patterns, just like her wardrobe. Harry was too polite to say anything to her, though), drinking some poorly made tea (she was getting better, but it was still too watery and he was sure that she didn't know the meaning of the word 'sugar') when she brought up the topic of bullying.

"Now, Harry, it's perfectly normal for a boy your age to be scared of these things, but you must not let fear guide your decisions!"

"Er, alright? I-I'm sorry, Ms. Ryder. I don't know what you mean."

"Bullying, my boy! Your cousin of yours needs a serious talking to!" Harry flinched. He didn't think Ms. Ryder noticed the way Dudley pushed him around. No one else seemed to care. Then the rest of the statement caught up and panic rose up in him.

"I don't think that's necessary, ma'am!" He really didn't want Ms. Ryder speaking with his aunt or uncle. Especially about Dudley.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really, dear, I think it is best-"

Harry's words scrambled over hers. "No, no! It's okay, really! I'm sure he doesn't mean any harm by anything!" He winced internally at the blatant lie.

Ms. Ryder's eyes narrowed and her gaze turned piercing. He took a sip of his tea to cover his discomfort, but then had to struggle not to spit the liquid out. He managed to swallow just as she said, gently, "Harry, you really shouldn't lie." Harry felt embarrassment well up in him. "We both know your cousin is a dreadful little boy and he means many malicious things towards you."

Harry looked away. It was rare for someone to take his side and not Dudley's. "Yeah, well, try convincing my aunt and uncle of that. Their 'Duddykins' can't do anything wrong." He didn't sound bitter. No, not at all.

Ms. Ryder's gaze softened. She patted him on his arm. "I know it's hard, dear, but you are a strong boy." Harry gave her a disbelieving stare. "You are! And I will tell you what you should do." Ms. Ryder leaned in closer. "Now, there are several ways to handle this. One," she held up a finger, "you tell your aunt and uncle. Who won't listen, I know. So, two. Get revenge. Do something to Dudley. Get him back."

Her gaze was so serious that Harry started to actually contemplate revenge against his cousin. And why stop there? Why not his aunt and uncle as well? Or the boys at school, and the mean teachers and-

Her voice interrupted his thoughts, cutting through like a flaming sword. "However, that would be wrong. Understand, Harry? Two wrongs don't make a right. Trust me, dear. You wouldn't feel any better. And where would it stop? No, best not go down that road."

Harry sunk back in his chair, digesting this. "So, I don't tell my aunt and uncle, and I don't get back at Dudley, then what do I do?"

"Why, Harry, tell a responsible adult. Someone who can't take sides. Someone who has enough authority that Mr. and Mrs. Dursley have to listen to them. Alas, that is not me. Try a policeman, or a nurse, or even a teacher-"

Harry interrupted. "How about a school counsellor? Isn't that their job?"

Ms. Ryder paused. "Well, yes, but-"

"Perfect! We have one at the school! I can talk with him immediately!" Harry, excited, got up to leave.

"Er, dear, I don't think-"

"Thanks, ma'am! See you later!"

After Harry left, Gabriel sat in his kitchen, shocked at the turn of events. How had his talk on bullying end up with Harry's plan to take advice from Belial? He groaned and pinched his nose. The demon was sure to get a kick out of this.

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

Gabriel sighed as he sat down in the booth. He knew that Belial was going to spend this meeting gloating about how Harry was listening to him, now, not Gabriel. However, the demon was silent. This confused the angel so he decided to stick to small talk.

"Hello, Belial. It's nice to see you again." Gabriel waited for a response.

Nothing.

"Erm. I had trouble finding this place, you know. I don't frequent bars and this one was really just a whole in the wall and-" Gabriel abruptly stopped, peering at the demon closer through the dim lights. Angels couldn't see very well in the dark.

"Are you alright, dear?"

Finally Belial responded. "No, I'm _not_! Those blessed little buggers are worse than Hell!"

Gabriel started at the fervent response. "Er, dear?"

Belial picked up a drink Gabriel hadn't noticed before and downed it in one go. He slammed the glass on the table and it refilled itself. "Those kids, Gabriel. Those rotten, _horrible_ kids. I-I tried, okay? I thought these kids will be easy to corrupt." He shook his head and drained another glass, which refilled. "I was a _fool_!"

Gabriel was taken aback by this response. Surely a few school kids weren't that bad? Gabriel had baby-sat Harry on a regular basis and he was a rather sweet boy. Sure, his cousin Dudley was a little brat, but Gabriel had thought Dudley's behaviour was the exception. Looking at Belial's face, it appears Gabriel got it wrong. Still, though. School kids against a demon? Surely Belial was stronger than that…

"I know that look, angel. That's your 'Belial is acting like an incomprehensible evil thing again' look. Well, trust me, okay? Or, you know, don't. I mean, we're anemones. Er. Enemies. The point is, Hell could _learn_ from these kids. Okay? I even- I even sent memos Downstairs! Really, I said 'take a page out of these kids' books. Learn.' O' course, Hell takes things literally so all they did was take pages out of the children's textbooks and then berate me for wasting their time saying they don't need to learn about numbers or spelling and to stop messing about." Belial looked wretched. And quite drunk. "Messing about! I'm putting up with these fu-" Gabriel gave him a look. Belial just continued on, too wrapped up in his tirade. "-cking kids so that I can get closer to Harry Potter. I'm actually doing _work_, which is rare, and they say _stop messing about_!"

He then folds his arms up on the table and plunks his forehead down on his arms, so Gabriel can't see his face. They sit in silence like that. Gabriel had no idea what to say.

He settles for an awkward pat on the shoulder and a "there, there". Belial didn't even seem to notice. Gabriel was contemplating a drink himself when Belial started making weird noises and his shoulders started to shake. Alarmed Gabriel got up and changed sides so he was sitting right next to Belial.

"Belial? Dear?" Gabriel tentatively touched Belial's arm. "Look at me." He said very gently. Belial pulled his head out of his arms and tried to fix his bleary eyes on the angel's face. It didn't work. Gabriel sighed and said, "Would it make you feel better to know that I have made yet another mistake with Harry?"

Belial sniffed and said in a pathetic voice. "Yes. Tell me about it?" So Gabriel launched into his failed attempt at talking to Harry about bulling and how Harry was now going to talk to the demon. He made sure to exaggerate his motions and words to make the story funnier for the demon. By the end of it, Belial looked considerably more cheerful.

"Well, you sure bolloxed things up for yourself didn't you? Heh, at least I didn't do that!" Belial gave him a wide grin, setting his half-empty glass down. "Well, I better go prepare for Harry's visit! See you, angel!"

And with that, Belial was gone. Gabriel sank into his seat. Sighing, he picked up Belial's glass and took a sip. The liquid burned on the way down. "Yes, see you."

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

Harry peered through the open door. He could see Mr. Radwan leaning back on his chair, feet propped up on his desk, fast asleep. Suddenly Harry had major doubts about this, but pushed it aside, for he was willing to try practically anything to get Dudley and his gang off his back. He knocked politely on the door and almost flinched when Mr. Radwan jerked awake, feet crashing to the floor as he tried to balance himself.

The counsellor's eyes seared into Harry's own, and had his mouth open as if he was about to say some very mean things, but something shifter in his eyes and his demeanor abruptly changed.

"Ah, Mr. Potter! How _good_ it is to see you! How are you doing, boy? Sit, sit!" He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Mr. Radwan straightened his tie as Harry cautiously took a seat. "So what brings you here, Mr. Potter?" Mr. Radwan's cheerfulness was a bit scary. Almost unreal, in fact.

"I, uh, I'm having a…problem with some of-of the students. I was, er, wondering what I could do about it…er." Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Mr. Radwan smiled knowingly. "Ah, bullies. Wretched little buggers, aren't they?" Harry blinked in shock. He didn't know counsellors were allowed to speak that way.

Mr. Radwan didn't wait for Harry's reply. "Look, kid, they all are beneath you, alright? You are better than them. More powerful. You shouldn't let any snot-nosed brats treat you with such disrespect, alright?" Harry wanted to point out that he didn't seem too powerful when confronted by three or four boys twice the size of him. "Here is what you need to do, Mr. Potter. You need to-" Mr. Radwan continued his speech, but Harry didn't hear any more of it. Something –or, rather, someone- had distracted him.

She was beautiful, with pale, almost white skin, and raven-coloured hair. She was elegant with her sharp cheekbones and beautiful black dress. Her lips were the colour of roses and her teeth were perfect and straight.

And she was making faces right outside the window behind Mr. Radwan. Harry was stunned. At first glance, she seemed the picture of sophistication, but then she would contort her face and blow a raspberry at the back of the counsellor's head. Mr. Radwan did not notice a thing. Harry would have laughed, but he didn't want to give the game away. Whoever she was, she was funny.

"-and that is how you will never have to deal with any more insufferable children again. Understand, Mr. Potter?"

Harry quickly jerked to attention and tried to remember what Mr. Radwan had been talking about. He drew a blank. He realised the counsellor was waiting for an answer. "Uh, yes, sir, I understand, thank you," he lied.

Mr. Radwan gave him another creepily happy grin and patted him on the head. "Good, good. You may go."

Harry stood up to leave, but looked out the window one last time. The woman in black was gone. He turned and left the office, wondering what just happened.

**HP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HP**

**A.N.:** So I hope it doesn't take me so long to update. I mean, as long as no one else dies, I think I can update at least within a year. Heh. Sorry. My humor has taken a decidedly cynical turn. Anyways, please review, even if it's just to say, "_Finally_ got your arse in gear, huh?"


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